


two years is too long

by TheMewtwoLady (orphan_account)



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, FuraPura, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, One Shot, dude idk im sorry, first time writing porn please forgive me, i guess, its 2019 and i cant stop thinking about Them, no rainbow rocket bc idk how to work with that sorry, perfectworldshipping - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-24 08:21:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20702858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/TheMewtwoLady
Summary: Augustine gets a cryptic letter two years after Geosenge, which would've made a lot more sense had he not been almost certain the sender was dead.





	two years is too long

_Tap, tap. Tap, tap._ The professor drummed his pen on the edge of the table, staring blankly at the screen in front of him. New paper, straight out of Aurea’s lab - Audino’s ability shift when it mega evolved. It was fascinating, really, the depth of healing it could reach. New potential for Centers worldwide, if nurses could be trained in using the stones.   
The words on the screen were far from the front of his mind, though. He felt the featherweight of a letter open in his lap. His eyes darted down to it again, taking it in, though in the hours since its arrival he’d already memorized it. He feared laying it on the table, though there was no one else in his office. His heart still threatened to beat out of his chest. His letters had always done that.

_Perhaps we should take a walk on route 2? I’ll be there by 2:08._ It was early to leave work, but he knew he’d do it anyway. Even if he knew the eccentric time served a dual purpose in writing, his correspondent had never been late. The writing was somehow both cooly formal and deeply intimate. And the handwriting - it was different than how he’d used to write, in a tense, slanted cursive script, but given the number of letters they had sent back and forth the professor knew - his i’s were not dotted at the top, but dashed. He’d used to put little hearts over the i’s when he returned his letters, Augustine thought with a pang of longing. An unsent letter from almost three years ago was still buried deep in his drawers where no assistant would dare to go, given the mess. He’d been writing it when the news came. 

He’d barely noticed Charmander nosing at his leg, looking for lunch. “Ah - yes, my dear, I see you,” he said, his laugh a little unsteady. He picked up the letter and tucked it beneath the computer keyboard, then stood, turning. The glass doors into the Pokemon room slid open and various chitters, chirps and squeaks greeted him as he entered. It was a routine, of course; even in his trance-like state he could manage to feed the lab Pokemon from each bin - but a vine wrapping gently around his wrist made him realize that he’d been about to put Bulbasaur’s food into his full water dish.

“Ah...sorry about that, ha.” Bulbasaur eyed him strangely, but offered a chirp before turning to eat. Augustine glanced at his watch - 12:36. There was time to finish checking on all the rooms before bolting out on a search for a person he’d been so sure was dead. 

The thought that it might not even be him - cold fingers gripped his heart with icy dread. Was it possible? Their own little code, the handwriting...but who knew who might’ve seen his letters after he...was gone? His supposed death had not been the one of a hero. He’d been swept under the rug with the passage of science, if not to those who had stopped him, and though some public figures had denounced him, there was no arguing with the good he had done before the desperate end. The regional news had reported on it for not more than three weeks before moving onto the latest sensation - after all, he had been the only victim to his attempted crime. It was nothing more than a pitiful fate for a pitiful, lonely man, driven to madness. He’d been second author on many of Sycamore’s papers - many had expected a statement from what had clearly been his closest colleague, but the professor had remained silent. 

There was certainly no one that would know that the waters between them ran deeper as time went on. They had made sure of that with every tentative step they took into an in-between, blurred space between friends and lovers. But if they’d found his letters...if he’d saved them. He’d take a full team with him, at least, just in case, but there was no force in the world that could stop him from going to route 2. Not if there was the slightest, most improbable chance it was, after all this time, the man with flaming hair.

_Perhaps we should take a walk on route 2? I’ll be there by 2:08. It would be of great help to me to discuss these new discoveries in the field with such a fine researcher as yourself, and I hope they will interest you as well. If you wish to contact me by phone, my home number is 174-254-212 and my work number 193-138-217._  
Sincerely yours,  
T.F. 

Augustine’s breath hitched again upon rereading it. He toyed with the idea of actually dialing the numbers, but he knew they weren’t real. The hidden message was so simple - some of them had been lengthy and better hidden - but still managed to make his heart jump into his throat. And the nickname he’d had for Lysandre...he drew another shaky breath.

There was no more work being done today.

He threw the letter, his uneaten lunch, and coffee mug haphazardly into his bag and stumbled out into the atrium, briefly meeting a confused Dexio’s gaze. “Oh - Augustine, do you have a meeting out -”

“I need my meetings for today cancelled,” he said, his voice bordering on hysteric. “I’m...unwell.” Sina glanced up from her work. Dexio’s brow furrowed with concern. “Aw, no. Should we call you a cab?” The professor shook his head enthusiastically. “Are you sure? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

_I’m on my way to see one._ “No, I will walk, I’ll feel better after I take some air,” he babbled, already walking towards the doors, any protests muffled by the roaring of his own thoughts.

Perhaps the cab would’ve been a good idea, but Charizard would get him there faster. Maybe he could take some time to compose his thoughts, although certainly nothing would prepare him for...whatever lay ahead. He called the dragon out, who looked at him with some confusion, as if reminding him that he nearly always was airsick. “Please just fly me to route 2,” he said, steeling himself. “Fast. As you can without overdoing it.” Charizard huffed and lowered his neck for him to climb aboard.

When they landed, Augustine’s eyes stung; Charizard was a proud Pokemon with no desire to disappoint his trainer. “Thank you for that,” he said, swallowing hard and pulling the pleased-looking fire-type back into its pokeball.

The river sat oddly still at his feet, a gently undulating mirror. He found a spot in the shade where he could recover himself, taking off his coat and rubbing his temples. The twitter of a pair of Fletchling could be heard above him. He felt slightly nauseous and very nervous, the realization that this wasn’t really a good idea, Augustine, hitting him full force. He had no idea what to expect. Were police going to burst from the bushes, for associating with a man he’d not known to be a criminal? Or even if it was Lysandre, what did he want from him now? Was he still...the man he’d known, or - thought he’d known for so long? I thought you were dead, you coward. He could picture slapping him across the face for dramatic effect. How and where had he hidden away for these two long, miserable and lonely years? Did he even realize how much he’d missed him, too - 

There was a polite, gentle tap on his shoulder. “Pardon,” came the deep, soft voice from behind him. Augustine turned.  
And there he was.

Augustine stood up so quickly he almost fell back over, and made a strangled noise. Charging directly towards Lysandre, he wrapped his arms around him, terrified that the apparition would vanish. He heard a soft _oof_ as he collided with him, thinking _It’s a dream. I’ve had them like this before._ But even his dreams never entertained Lysandre hugging back as he did now, tentatively wrapping his arms around him, placing a shaking hand in his hair as though he was unsure of what to do. 

The embrace might have lasted seconds or hours - what did it matter? As long as Augustine had him here, he couldn’t...vanish again. Lysandre was the one to eventually pull away, arms still holding onto Augustine’s ever-so-gently. He took in his face hungrily, as if to be sure that it truly was him. He had changed just enough, Augustine thought. Long red hair was pulled back, and for the first time in Augustine’s memory he looked almost clean-shaven. His coat was gone; he was dressed so simply, so...like when they’d met, back when they’d been students together. Only the lines and a small scar running up the side of his face betrayed any age.

“I….cannot believe you came. After all this...Augustine?” They both stared each other up and down, wide-eyed. “Why on earth would you come to see - did you not know it was me...? I...I never thought you would -”

It was as if a dam had been opened. “Why would I - what on _earth_ do you think this was? Sending me a letter like that out of nowhere! You _bastard_ \- how can you possibly expect me to think _rationally_ \- I truly believed you dead! Obviously I knew it was you,” he snapped. “Nobody else sets a date for 2:08. You dug your own grave, and now you are back here as in my dreams, holding me?”  
He quickly wiped his forehead on his sleeve. “Where have you been? Who hid you? Why didn’t you speak to me for so long? Did you think I’d just - forget?” He stopped to draw a shaking breath, his voice hoarse. “_Mon feu._” The pet name had clearly been intended to come out with some venom, but it was gone by the time the words passed his lips.

Lysandre could do nothing but lower his eyes guiltily. “_Ton...feu_. If you still want to...claim me so.” He let Augustine’s arms go. “I have no excuses for you, you know. All I wanted - was to apologize with my deepest sincerity, in person, and -”

Again it was though his words struck Augustine. “Look at me,” he hissed, jabbing at his chest. “You….are thin.” It seemed this was a momentary distraction to him, but he regained his stature. “If I had only wanted to listen to you apologize, I would not have come. I know what you’ve done or - tried. I was running there and then - you….I...I want to speak to you. I’m furious.”

Lysandre could practically see him wrestling with himself. He stared at his shoes, this interaction going nothing like he’d expected it to, as things were want to go with Augustine. It was also a lot harder to look at him than he’d expected, not unlike staring directly into the sun, without wanting to lose his composure too. 

“But I’ve missed you too, you know. More than you know,” Augustine continued, voice jagged. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand again, unable to think anything but _he is here it’s him it’s Lysandre._ What was he doing? He should...he shouldn’t...

Lysandre drew a sharp breath. “Do you still have your flat on Northern Boulevard?” Augustine nodded. “Perhaps...I apologize for inviting myself over, but we might...speak better without prying eyes. If that is something you are comfortable with...” Augustine glanced around. Though the Pokemon had given them a wide berth by this point, a few concerned-looking people were peering inquisitively at the pair of them from around the trees. Augustine gave a half-reassuring, dismissive wave before turning back to Lysandre, physically unable to concern himself with them.

He nodded without a second thought.

They sat beside each other on the old couch, barely moving, as if neither could bear the thought of letting the other out of their sight. Augustine’s arm was gently laid on Lysandre’s, and he leaned gently into his side. Lysandre was trying desperately to ignore that. Augustine had always been very physically affectionate, but he had - reasonably - expected that to no longer extend to him.

“Please...tell me what’s happened, _mon feu_. Everything that’s gone on.” Augustine’s voice was calmer now, but still frustrated; exhausted. 

Lysandre did. It was perhaps the most honest he had ever been, given the pauses, hesitations. Augustine had not asked him where to begin. Despite his pride, his all-too-human flaws, he laid it out; a family Augustine had never known he’d had, Xerosic, how Team Flare had originally been founded as nothing more than a few people and spread as he watched disaster after disaster affect the world. “I...reacted, more than thinking logically,” he added. “Even if the steps were calculated, I don’t...I didn’t know what was to be done afterwards. It was going through motions. I don’t...understand how I could have thought that. It wasn’t until I met your student at the end, there...that I could understand, really. The weapon - I - we had no power.”

“So why did you fire it, in the end?” Augustine shook his head. “I’m trying to understand you, I am trying my very hardest. Not because you deserve it, just…” He hesitated, “I want to know.” 

Lysandre was silent for a long moment. “I did not think I would live.” He sucked in a breath. “How many others were...I...I haven’t been able to find the reports on it.”

“You were the only one who was even injured. Thanks to Serena and the others.”

Lysandre’s face seemed to melt in relief. 

Augustine, too, was relieved to see the emotion in his face. His hand had somehow found its way into Lysandre’s, and he gave it a squeeze. Actions had always spoken louder than words for him, but now more than ever their useless language offered nothing. The room was quiet except for the hum of the overhead light, cars passing fewer and further between as the evening slipped away.

Finally Lysandre continued; told him of where he had hidden, almost giving into death under his beautiful weapon. “Pyroar saved me, and...dumb luck, I suppose. I did not think he would, but he forced his way out and dragged me with him, after days of effort. When I saw the sun again, I did not wish I had died in my own tomb.” Then he had gone - by sea, moving around, seeing what he had not seen before.  
“Have you been to Alola?” Augustine gave a small nod, wondering how recently he had been there - if they’d been there together and hadn’t known. “Everyone there was so...happy. It was frustrating at first. There are just as many issues there as everywhere else in the world, people tearing themselves apart and Pokemon with them. But there was so much good and beauty in it still, and people were trying.” He shook his head. “I know now that there are people trying everywhere to make things a little better, even if they are not perfect. I was the - fool, Augustine. Everywhere I went I learned that, like a slap to the face.” 

Augustine nodded again.

Lysandre fidgeted with the end of his shirt, lowering his eyes. “I...but I….ah. I realized I should have known that from the person that had been beside me the whole time. You….have always been one of the best. Caring, and kind, and brilliant. I...felt it wasn’t enough to justify it all, so I begged you to come with me, but....it should have been. Enough. To remain in this world, and to be content.” He sighed. “I...know you will not forgive me, and you are justified in that. I just - I had to tell you, so you. Knew how important it was to me that you were here, after all this.”

He turned away. Augustine stared at him. “Don’t...don’t tell me what I will do,” he said thickly. “I still feel...as if I could have been there, things would have gone differently. I don’t know why you were not honest with me, but I knew...I knew something was wrong for months, Lysandre.” 

Lysandre turned to look at him again. “You can’t possibly blame yourself -” but Augustine continued. “I know, and I don’t. But I should have talked to you earlier. I was...selfish. I didn’t want to risk losing what we had, and I thought it might have something to do with me. It’s….idiocy, I know.” His cheeks burned. He had ignored any sign that something was wrong so that they could have their time together, busy as they both were.

“But I know you acted of your own volition. I only wish I could have done…._merde_, something differently. Because I...I do want to forgive you, even if others will not. Even if you have done something terrible.” He shoved a hand through his messy hair, trembling slightly. “I know you are not bad. I know it in my heart.” _You still have my heart, after all this time, unfortunately._ “I do want to believe there is a reason Pyroar never left you, and there is a reason not being there at the time is my greatest regret. I still…” The phrase hung in the air.

Lysandre’s fingers trembled. “I have never deserved you. And now I have betrayed you.” He let out a short laugh that sounded as though he was trying not to cry. “I...never thought I would see you again. I didn’t think you would want to see me, not after what I did. I was the selfish one. It wouldn’t be right to accept a place in your life again, you, of all people.” 

“Not a day has gone by where I did not think of you, still. Not all the thoughts were kind.” Augustine gave a half-smile. “But I...can’t deny I haven’t...I...your message.” He shook his head. “You cannot send a heartsick man something like that and not expect him to want to try.” He gave him a smile, almost shy. Lysandre flushed - he hadn’t really expected a response to that message. It was easier writing it from halfway across the region than being next to Augustine, who had actually read it and for some reason returned the sentiment. He was beginning to wish he hadn’t included that tidbit.

Warmth flickered teasingly in Augustine’s eyes. It was an old game of his; trying to fluster Lysandre until his face matched his hair (and rather easy, actually). They were both selfish, Augustine decided. Lysandre clearing his throat in embarrassment, his eyes, darting under long lashes - he wanted to indulge a little.

He ran a finger down the scar on one side of his cheek, slowly, with a still-trembling finger. Lysandre’s breath hitched, but he remained still. “Were you injured?” Augustine asked quietly.

“It - hurt,” he mumbled, a little childishly. “It healed in time. I didn’t want to risk stopping to get any of the injuries looked at, and I have Pyroar to thank for not having it worse. I did have his injuries looked at, though, so I know he’s - ”

Augustine leaned in to press a kiss, feather-light, against the scar. Lysandre looked as though he might faint. He gently shifted a few strands of red hair out of his face, tucking them gingerly behind his ear. “Does it still?”

He curved his finger around the edge of his chin, looking into his lovely eyes; he thought of summer, pale green. The last summer they had shared, and now it was summer again, leaves in his eyes growing green as he leaned in to kiss him, ever so gently. He buried his hands in the long, thick red hair, feeling Lysandre return the kiss and pulling him in closer. It quickly turned more desperate as he remembered just how good it was to kiss Lysandre. _Arceus,_ it had been so long. He pressed further into his chest, burying himself in _Lysandre_ \- the lips, still somehow so soft, the sound of his breathing, his warmth. He smelled of the woods and fire…

Lysandre finally pulled away, breathing heavily. “Augustine.”

“Hmm?” 

“You...have migrated to my lap.”

“So it seems I have.” Undeterred, Augustine’s arms fell from his hair to sit around his waist, tucking his nose into the crook of Lysandre’s neck. His heart raced. He’d just wanted a small kiss, just to see - he had gotten a little carried away, admittedly, though Lysandre hadn’t really helped. He buried his face deeper into Lysandre’s collar.

“Augustine….” The name was more of a whimper, though he was clearly trying to be strong. “Please look at me.” Slowly a dark, tousled head rose to stare at him guiltily. “I...we should not. You...you need some time.”

Augustine gave a derisive snort. “Two years. Alone and missing my...dearest companion. I should think I’ve had it. Unless...your feelings have changed, of course -”

“No.” Lysandre’s voice was dark and painfully attractive, a little breathier than it had been. “I could not lie to you. I meant what I said.” 

“Then what is the harm in it?” Augustine’s face was deceptively innocent. “Can we not...continue talking later?”

A pause, and his face fell slightly. “Please stay with me, Lysandre.”

“I should not, Augustine. It would endanger you.”

Augustine sighed. “Did you actually have any plans past sending that letter?”

Silence. Once again Lysandre avoided his eyes. “I want to do...something to try and help.”

“Stay with me, then.”

Lysandre’s eyes snapped up, blinking at Augustine owlishly. “You can’t possibly be serious.”

Augustine shrugged. “You can help me with the ecological research I’ve been doing. Or something else. We used to be such a good team, _mon feu._ We could actually make a difference, contrary to what you seem to have believed.”

“And if something happened to you? I would never forgive-”

“It wouldn’t.” Augustine’s voice was firm. “I have no doubt. Nobody is looking for a man who died beneath Geosenge two years ago, certainly not one who is a...friend to Professor Sycamore. The identity we could figure out,” he continued quickly, “I know people I can trust to help with that, I do have a spare room if you’d prefer your own space, it’s small but I also like the idea of sharing…” He stared at a couch cushion. “I simply...cannot manage you leaving me again, like that. You know I still care. I cannot help it.”

Lysandre ran a hand through his own hair. “Do you have to be so honest with me always?”

Augustine frowned at him. “Perhaps it would have saved a lot of trouble had I given you a lesson.”

Lysandre gave a resigned huff. “I will - would - worry about you, Augustine. You are the only person who I...want to be with, and if I lost you…”

Augustine gave a small laugh. “We agree not to lose each other, then?”

“I...suppose. If you’re willing to try, I...don’t have many options, and certainly no better ones - ”

Augustine’s arms wrapped around his waist squeezed with a strength that Lysandre hadn’t thought possible. “Ah! Augustine.” His voice sounded almost nervous. “I’m...not going anywhere now, in any case. You don’t have to hold me here.” 

“Hmm, but I want to.” Augustine tucked a kiss beneath his chin, another on his neck, a few more onto his collarbones. He shifted in Lysandre’s lap, which was enough to elicit a small moan from him that he quickly tried to suppress. Augustine paused a moment, if only because the sound shot a pang of want through his entire body like an electric current. 

“I’m...so sorry. It has been so long since I felt...anything from another person. Of course you know - you were the only...” Lysandre managed, even redder now. “I can - go, ah…”

“For me too,” Augustine said, cutting him off. “I never got over you. I never will.”

Lysandre groaned. “I - you. I can’t believe you can say these things.”

“My mouth still has better uses.” He leaned in to his ear, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Would you like to find out?”

Lysandre choked. Stormy eyes peered at him - beautiful, yes, and very much full of lust and...something else. He turned away slightly, fighting to keep the arousal out of his own voice. “Don’t we still -”

“Obviously we still have a lot to talk about, yes.” Augustine rolled his eyes. “But the heart wants what it -”

“Don’t say that,” Lysandre grumbled, face feeling painfully hot by now. “You don’t mean it.”

Augustine shook his head. “I do,” he said, looking briefly serious. “My dick also wants what it wants, though, if you’d rather hear that -”

“_Arceus,_ Gus, I want you too, stop talking.”

The little smirk that broke across Augustine’s face was unfairly cute. “You called me Gus again,” he cooed, as if Lysandre hadn’t already wanted to die as soon as the word had left his mouth.

“S-sorry,” he mumbled, “old habits, ah -”

“Don’t apologize, you fool.” Augustine’s breath was hot on his ear, and he nipped at his earlobe. “So...how do you want me?”

At this point, Augustine declared himself the victor of “fluster Lysandre” because he was suddenly being hoisted into the larger man’s arms. He let out a pleased gasp, letting his arms rest gently around his neck.

“And you said I was thin, Gus, have you seen yourself?” There was a note of distress in Lysandre’s voice at how alarmingly easy the professor was to carry to the bedroom.

Augustine sighed, leaning into his chest. “Your fault for cutting off my supply of eclairs.”

Lysandre set him down on the bed ever so gently. Augustine’s laughter was soft and musical, chimes in the wind. Lysandre gently cupped his cheek, gazing down at him with...what he’d been avoiding saying out loud all night. Slowly, he kissed him, and any remaining rational thought fell away into a dark haze of arousal. Lysandre’s hands found purchase in Augustine’s hair, finally Augustine thought, tangling among the dark curls. Augustine’s hands roamed beneath Lysandre’s shirt, tracing swirling patterns on his back. His back arched into the touch, and Augustine tugged the shirt loose of the belt.

“Off,” he muttered in the single breath that constituted the only break he could afford from Lysandre’s wonderful mouth. Lysandre obeyed, clumsily popping the buttons of his shirt open. Augustine splayed a hand across his chest, feeling an uncharted landscape beneath his fingertips. Lysandre lowered himself back to the bed. Augustine’s mouth fell to his pale navel, scattering wet kisses along his chest. He slowly raised his head to stare at him with half-lidded eyes.

“You are more beautiful like this than in my dreams.”

“A...Augustine.”

He had never known his name to be so alluring before. His dick twitched as if in answer, and he began working on Lysandre’s belt with something that sounded like a half-growl. Why had clothes never been this frustrating before, either? Lysandre’s labored breathing only made his hands shake more in anticipation. Finally the zipper yielded to him and he could see Lysandre’s erection strain against the fabric of his underwear.

Lysandre let out a low moan. “You are so _loud_,” Augustine murmured, coming back to drop another kiss onto his collar. “I love it.” His hands ran through Lysandre’s hair again, before gently teasing his legs open with a thigh. Lysandre bucked his hips against Augustine’s leg, trying to undo his shirt as well.

“You are in a hurry, hm?” Augustine’s voice was husky as one hand crept down Lysandre’s front, finding its way down to his navel, dipping lower.

“Y-you’re...teasing me.”

“Am I?” His fingers swept his thighs, feeling the muscles tense. Lysandre gritted his teeth. “Is there something the matter?” Augustine smiled up at him, coy. His fingers hovered around Lysandre’s underwear, brushing across his erection occasionally. Lysandre growled. He was coming unraveled for him, face such a nice shade of red.

“What is it you want, _mon feu?_”

“Augustine,” he grunted again.

“Use your words.” Augustine tugged at the waistband of his underwear.

“J-just...touch me.” A jolt of pure delight. Augustine smiled and placed a kiss onto the head of his dick; Lysandre’s hands around his back squeezing harder. Augustine palmed the erection through his underwear, then finally tugged the fabric off after what felt like an eternity of drawing out the delicious sounds he made.

He began slowly, dragging his tongue up the side of his length and down again, the salty taste of his precum already in his mouth. He wrapped his lips around the head then, Lysandre letting out a pleased gasp, and lowered himself down. Augustine wished fleetingly he could record the obscene noises he made, each one making his own cock throb. “Au...gus...tine. Ah…” Lysandre was clearly making a heroic effort to not destroy the back of his throat, though they moved in a rhythm together now.

Lysandre let out another moan. “I’m...going to come,” he gasped, hands now digging into Augustine’s bedsheets. “I-,” was the final warning he got before hot cum shot down Augustine’s throat. His soft pink lips let his dick go with a soft pop, and he looked up at him with half-lidded eyes.

“Was that good, mon amour?”

Lysandre, still panting, could only nod, propping himself up on his elbows. He pulled Augustine in for another heated kiss, Augustine lowering himself onto Lysandre until they were flush with each other. The sweat, Lysandre’s ragged breathing, Lysandre’s hot cheeks...it was almost too much to withstand. Breaking off the kiss, he whispered “Lube...top drawer of the nightstand,” Lysandre obediently fumbling with the drawer for the bottle with his longer arms. He handed him the tube with a trembling hand.

“Roll over a little.” Augustine poured the lube messily onto his hand, then tossed it aside. “You will tell me if it hurts, alright?” Lysandre nodded again, and Augustine inserted a finger, exploring with soft squelch sounds. He tried a second soon after, leaning up to nibble at Lysandre’s earlobe. It was tight, but Lysandre did not complain when Augustine added a third, his breathing growing ragged with anticipation. It did not take long for him to want more, to feel full.

“Augustine...I’m ready. Please…” Augustine nuzzled the base of his neck in answer. He was getting incredibly hot, and sat up suddenly, tugging his pants and underwear off at once. Lysandre rolled back to face him. His knees spread apart, he took the bottle again, pouring most of what remained onto his length, spreading it up and down with sweet moans. But he was far too impatient to put on much of a show, completely preoccupied with how much _better_ his dick would feel buried deep in Lysandre’s ass.

But clearly he’d taken long enough to get ready, because Lysandre managed to look even more desperate still, eyes glued to him. “I’m so ready, Augustine. Please j-just fuck me.”

Something snapped in Augustine. “Fuck, Lysandre.” He pressed his hips down in line with his hole, the throbbing of his dick almost painful by now. “Tell me if you need me to stop.” And with that, he pressed in, Lysandre clutching at his arms with a soft cry. “A-are you alright?”

“Yes,” he said, the word itself almost unrecognizable. “I’ve never been better in my life. Keep...going...ah,” he moaned as Augustine pressed deeper, then pulled out halfway. It was fire and ecstasy, and Augustine’s moans quickly turned into babbling. “_Mon amour,_ you are so tight, _fuck_ you are so good, I am yours…” His dick brushed against Lysandre’s prostate and his hips bucked in response, Lysandre letting out a deep moan that he could only hope the whole region had not heard. Augustine’s back arched, thrusting himself as deep into Lysandre as he could reach, the slap of wet skin reaching a fever pitch. Lysandre clutched at him as he fucked him deeper, spread wide, his nails digging into his back as he mumbled nonsense.

“Lys, mon amour, ah, I can’t last much longer,” he finally gasped, unable to hold it back. The warmth in his stomach was growing and he reached out to stroke Lysandre’s length, already throbbing again, twitching under his hand. “Lysandre...come with me,” he said, thrusting as deep as he could before the orgasm came over him, long, and powerful, the two crying out in unison. Augustine collapsed onto him with a groan, and Lysandre pulled him into another kiss, more gentle this time, the taste of cum filling both their mouths.

The gentle light of a street lamp outside was the only slight illumination in the room, and they felt for each other in the dark, gently coming apart to lay side by side. Lysandre was the first to speak. “You...how can you be so...so beautiful,” he murmured in a raspy voice after the joyful silence had stretched on long enough. He sighed, a happier sound than it had ever been before. “I...know I am far from who you deserve, but…”

Augustine had never had much of a verbal filter, which was further lowered by this ecstatic post-sex post-reunion feeling that he wanted to live in forever. “I’m still in love with you,” he blurted. “I mean..._merde_, not just the sex, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that just now, I just..._mon feu_, I want you to be happy. I want to make you happy. After everything. Perhaps I am too much the optimist, but I...feel we can make things right, maybe we can try this again. Even if you do not feel the same, of course, ah...” His own face was finally a shade to rival Lysandre’s hair, and he covered it with a hand, squeezing his eyes shut. Why couldn’t he just stop talking sometimes?

Arms gently wrapped around him and tugged him gently in, and he turned to hide his face in Lysandre’s chest. When he finally spoke, it was with an almost startling intensity.

“For years. I mean - I have felt the same. Not even in my darkest time did I doubt that, certainly not while we were apart. I...don’t know why you want me still.” He drew a ragged breath, and Augustine realized he was crying. “But as long as you will have me, I...can perhaps do right by the world.” 

“I believe you.” Augustine wrapped his arms around the broad shoulders, holding him as he shook, imperfectly human. “You must stop crying, Lys, you know I can’t stop myself from crying too.” Tears were already running down his cheeks, something desperate and hopeful and terrified beating out of him. He really was wrapped around a man who had - hopefully past tense - been willing to end the world. Two years was a long time, right?

_Augustine, you are hopeless and head over heels_ crossed his mind, but he chose to leave that thought for tomorrow Augustine. He tucked himself closer to Lysandre, breathing him in, rubbing soothing circles on his back. Perhaps neither of them had ever had the gift of foresight. 

Perhaps things could still be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> cant believe its been 6 years since XY and im still crying over these two...i just started hyperfixating on them again recently and wanted 2 get this out of my system. its so hard to write about s*x i cried  
mon feu/ton feu - my fire/your fire
> 
> i do have an art blog @flyingpikart but this fic is never touching it bc i will be publicly executed for horny crimes. i do post less horny art of these two over there tho
> 
> if anyone can find the message i'll be happy :,)


End file.
